


Working Title: Being A Fairy Princet isn't All it's Cracked Up to Be

by Miellat_II



Category: Original Work
Genre: 24/7 D/s femdom/malesub relationship, Fae & Fairies, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Character, Multi, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, author misses nyc pretty badly, heavy on the comfort tbh, the wild hunt, transmale character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-07-10 09:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miellat_II/pseuds/Miellat_II
Summary: Prince Garnet is a sidhe princet that lives in New York City. Hewasa merry divorcé, hewasperfectly safe walking home at two am in little more than heels and glitter, hewashaving a good night...And then he wasn't. With the Wild Hunt after him, Garnet has to find safety not within the community he's always lived in, but withotherimmortals. Problem is,nobodylikes fae.





	1. Chapter 1

Garnet knew he was in trouble the minute he hit the ground, running from his assailants through the dark streets, slipping on the ground vents in the rain. He didn’t look back, he could hear the Wild Hunt well enough, he just had to get onto the subway, he’d be safe there… He nearly cracked his head running down the stairs, nearly lost his footing, but his heels were made of sturdier stuff than plastic, and the metal shanks held, even with the abuse he was putting them through. Only his feet, delicate as sidhe feet always were, complained bitterly.

The train wasn’t there, but the subway was too criss-crossed by Iron to let them pass—Garnet hurriedly slid his metro card and got through the turnstile, the hounds coming up short, pacing as they tried in vain to find an opening big enough to get through. But barriers that kept out non-paying riders kept them out too—and _they_ couldn’t climb over, like humans sometimes did.

He collapsed onto the nearest bench, panting, finally letting himself feel the consequences of running in seven-inch heels. The pain was like knives, and Garnet swung of his backpack and dug through to find the aspirin envelopes, tearing open two at the same time and pouring them down, the artificial cherry flavour reassuring in its stickily false nature. He washed it down with water, and tucked the bottle back in place just as the train came. He braced for the agony and pushed up, swinging his pack to the front, as many new Yorkers did, to foil pick-pockets. It was late, so he found a seat, sliding over to the end, leaning against the comforting safety of the train wall in the corner, flipping his pack around and hugging it.

The Hunt was after him. He never thought his ex hated him _that_ much; then again, Garnet reflected, his ex had been a very good liar. It was only after… Garnet shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that, right now. He needed to get somewhere safe. Where, he didn’t know. He’d decide when he got into Manhattan again.

Buskers made Garnet tense; so many of them were Folk, it was hard to enjoy when Garnet was constantly looking out for spies or hunters. A pooka dancer only glanced at him and thanked him when he gave a dollar to the hat. Garnet tried to smile, but it didn’t come out, and he pretended to be asleep. The aspirin had kicked in, but it couldn’t undo the damage. Garnet wanted to plunge his feet into ice-water, that would help….

The stops were a comforting rhythm, but despite his exhaustion, Garnet couldn’t rest. He was homeless, he realised around the time the train came aboveground and crossed the Manhattan Bridge, Garnet staring at the statue of liberty’s light, the rain having let up for a moment. Like the humans who had brought the fae here in the first place, Garnet was an immigrant. Lady Liberty, with her lamp perpetual, was not just a symbol of the city, to him. He remembered when she had been built, been gifted. He remembered her words.

All right, then, he was homeless. But he was still a New Yorker, Garnet thought fiercely. He was still home in this city. Where could he go? Who could he turn to?

By the time he got into Union Square, Garnet had a plan—at least, he had an address to try. He got off at Times Square, crossed over to the one up to Inwood. He knew a vampire lived up there, near the Cloisters, because he’d lived up there a long time. Garnet hadn’t seen him in centuries, but he knew as surely as he knew there was still a colony of dragons in the harbour of Baltimore. Things didn’t change very quickly, for immortals; and anyway, in a town like this, you held on to your rent-controlled home for grim death.

The apartment building was still the same, just older; the smell of fried plantains was in the air, and Garnet made a note to follow it and get some—just as soon as it was safe to eat, again.

The vampire was in the lobby already; Garnet smiled, or tried to, and waved, as he came up with gingerly steps, aware he was trespassing, but willing to throw himself into politeness. Vampires liked politeness.

‘I’m called Garnet, I thought maybe—the Hunt is after me and—I mean, er, I haven’t got anywhere to stay, and… and I remembered you….’ He gesticulated. ‘you know, um, that you had a place here.’

The vampire was as white as snow, long straight hair and luminous skin and acrylic nails and all, and wearing gothic black, silver rings on most of his fingers—and they weren’t the gaudy kind. One of them, the poison ring on his middle finger, was Knocker-made. Red eyes that no longer needed to be hidden behind dark glasses regarded him with the lifeless stare vampires were so good at.

‘Which Hunt?’ he said, in no hurry.

‘The Wild Hunt,’ Garnet said, glad they were at the point of asking questions. He tried not to wring his hands, tapping his acrylic nails against each other. ‘My ex, um, the Queen, he… he sort of….’

The vampire softened, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said, ‘Of course, come in, you should have something sweet….’

The invitation was clear, and Garnet was grateful. He let the vampire steer him into the tiny closet of an elevator, staring around at the speckled pink walls of it as they went up. Garnet loved all the different elevators in the city—there were so many, and he liked the tiny, old ones best. ‘So, what do I call you?’

‘Dmitri,’ he said. ‘I hope you understand my cold greeting.’

‘I do,’ Garnet said, and huffed a little breath. ‘Dmitri,’ he said. ‘Huh. Never would have guessed you were Russian.’

‘I’m not,’ came the reply, and the mysterious smile. ‘I’m goth.’

Garnet was surprised into a tiny laugh. ‘Bit cliché.’

‘So is you being covered in glitter.’

‘I…’ Garnet held up his finger to protest, only he _couldn’t_ ; and Dmitri only smiled down at him—and almost, but not quite, smirked. Garnet pouted lips he knew were more fetching than any mortal— _or_ vampire—lips could be. ‘Well,’ he amended, ‘you look _very_ good.’

‘As do you. Aren’t mortals handy, coming up with the perfect fashion for us?’

Garnet admired the grace of that diplomacy—were vampires always this diplomatic? He should hang out with more vampires—as the elevator doors opened, and they came out on the top floor, which only had Dmitri’s apartment. He keyed in, and called softly.

‘My love, are you yet sleeping?’

‘No,’ came a woman’s voice. ‘Who is it, pet? Another vampire? Michaela?’

‘A sidhe, my dearest,’ he said. As he let Garnet in, gently shutting the door. Garnet stayed put in the foyer, not wishing to intrude, but realising, in the relative quiet, that he was about to pass out from exhaustion, and his feet _really_ hurt. ‘The princet.’

There was a shifting, and the snap of a very old-fashioned shape of heels on the wooden floors. Garnet expected another, older vampire—instead, he saw a human who might have been youthful, but had too much surety and confidence to be less than thirty. She was unmistakeably a goth, even in a casual dressing gown (which wasn’t terribly casual, but this was New York City and ‘weird’ was just part of living here long enough). She was pretty, in a moonish way, and wore very nice spectacles. She looked like a natural redhead, but her hair was, of course, black. She held out her hand.

‘Good evening, Your Grace.’

Garnet kissed her hand, not ever being much for ranks, not after coffee-dating Clicket; but he was very much about kissing a Lady’s hand, and this human was, no matter her human status, every inch and ounce a Lady of the first water. ‘I’m called Garnet.’

‘And I am called Milady,’ she said, and Garnet appreciated the tradition of the Call. He bowed to her in acquiesce.

‘As you wish, Milady,’ he said.

‘Now,’ she said, smiling at him, which quite transformed her face—but then, that was moonish beauty for you. ‘Do you prefer tea or coffee with your pastries, Your Grace?’

‘Just Garnet, please, I’m trying not to be a crownie,’ Garnet said. ‘I’d… rather have a bucket of ice for my feet, really. I ran about a mile in these heels.’

She snapped. ‘Pet,’ she said, and Dmitri bowed, sweeping Garnet off his feet in a princess carry; Garnet did not protest, starting to see the shape of their dynamic, now.

‘Ooh,’ he giggled, looping his arms around Dmitri’s long, cravatted neck. ‘Such a strong, handsome pet you’ve got, Milady.’

‘Isn’t he just?’ she flirted back with a grin.

Dmitri opened the bathroom door with a light use of powers, and revealed a vintage pink bathroom, including a clawfoot tub. Garnet almost started _salivating_. How long had it been since he’d had a _bath_? ‘I’m going to live here,’ Garnet said quietly, and Dmitri’s laugh was as weaponised as a vampire’s laugh always was, rolling and velvety and promising all _kinds_ of delightful things in a very _boudoir_ kind of way.

Garnet was set down on a pouf, and Dmitri knelt on the bath rug to unzip Garnet’s glittering boots, gently taking them off. They were good boots, Garnet wasn’t in agony from blisters (blisters were so disgusting, Garnet avoided them at all cost); but from the sheer strain. Dmitri’s cold hands felt orgasmic in the amount of relief they gave, and Garnet was noisy about his appreciation.

Dmitri only gave a softer-edged smile, one that didn’t reach his mouth. ‘I shall retrieve some ice,’ he said, leaving Garnet with his feet in a bin of cold water. Garnet was already breathing easier, and didn’t miss how Dmitri took the dirty boots with him. He came back with a punchbowl full of ice, and poured it gently over Garnet’s feet. The relief was immediate, and Garnet nearly fell over, glad Dmitri had set him so he could lean to his side, against the rim of the bathtub.

‘Hnnn, just leave me like this,’ Garnet moaned, head in his folded arms.

‘Of course not,’ Dmitri said, ‘you’re a guest. You must want a bath before bed, yes? Mistress insists you be pampered.’

‘Well, if she insists,’ Garnet said, aware that Milady might be insisting because of stories about folkish temper. Garnet wasn’t about to turn down some much-needed pampering, however.

‘You may use any of the toiletries, and I shall have your towels warming,’ Dmitri said, bowing a little.

‘Dmitri,’ Garnet said, just before he opened the door. ‘I do have a question: why?’

Dmitri smiled with just his eyes again. ‘Because it brings me pleasure to obey her,’ he said, and shut the door quietly behind himself, leaving Garnet to mull over dramatic exits, and why vampires were so much better at them.


	2. Chapter 2

Dmitri came back to see his beloved Victoria carefully arranging pastries on the tiered serving dish he’d gotten her for their anniversary last year. She’d used it almost daily, and that was the best sign of having given a well-liked gift. The china was her favourite pattern, a discontinued Royal Albert design that had large black and red roses. She had raided the cool pantry where they kept the numerous pastries Dmitri made throughout the week (vampires made excellent pastry chefs, with their cold hands; and it was exactly the kind of intricate hobby that satisfied Dmitri’s vampiric hyper-fixation), and there was quite the variety.

‘Did you find out if he likes tea or coffee?’ she asked.

‘He may fall asleep before he gets out of the bath,’ Dmitri said, perching on one of the barstools. They were unusual in that they were large and comfortable, because they had been made by a mutual friend as a house-warming gift (and so that she could have somewhere comfortable to sit, when she visited—Michaela, like Victoria, was fat as well as tall).

‘Poor little dear, how is he now?’

‘Slumped against the side of the tub, with his feet in ice-water,’ Dmitri said. His hunger said fae blood would be delicious and rather like champagne; he savoured the thought, knowing it would never be more. Being as old as he was—nearly five centuries—Dmitri’s body wanted quite a lot of blood. Unlike most vampires his age, Dmitri had not succumbed to madness for the simple fact that he rather enjoyed _not_ having. The wanting was more enjoyable than the having, he’d learnt after three hundred years. He still drank blood, but a few pints a night, while enough to sustain his powers and lifeless life, was not enough for him to feel _sated_ —that would take bodies and bodies worth, which was why most elder vampires were hunted down.

‘I love you,’ he said, sighing as he watched her bustle. She loved hostessing, and he imagined she was quite pleased at finally seeing a fae in person. Her tea-gown was yards and yards of black lace over delicate silk, and her dressing-gown was black quilted silk trimmed with black sable. She adored it, and had made it herself, though Dmitri had been the one to find all the materials. He was very fond of finding fabric and trimmings for her, watching her transform them into beautiful things.

‘And I you,’ she said, looking up and smiling at him. ‘Go see to it he gets a proper bath, Dmitri, even if you have to bathe the sleepy darling yourself. I don’t want him drowning in my bathroom.’

Dmitri stood again, bowing to her. ‘May I have a kiss, before I go?’

‘You may,’ she said, and offered her face. He kissed her cheek before going back to see to their guest. Garnet was asleep against the tub, but woke when Dmitri turned the bathwater to fill the tub.

Garnet woke to the sound of rushing water, and pushed himself upright, looking around, slightly disoriented. Right, he was in a vampire’s house, in a very cool retro bathroom that was probably making him look as good as the vampire currently in shirtsleeves, looking down at him.

‘Mistress wants you to have a bath, and I will help if you are too tired.’

‘That sounds awesome,’ Garnet said, ‘because I _am_ too tired.’

‘Very well,’ Dmitri said, ‘can you undress by yourself?’

‘Yeah,’ Garnet answered, starting to. He was too tired to even yawn, really. ‘ ‘m glad the lights are soft,’ he said, as he handed Dmitri his dress, and started on his panties, standing up in the ice, carefully pulling his feet out of it and putting them on the bath rug, which was one of the fun ones that had a lot of long but thick and fuzzy pile. Garnet squidged his toes in it a little bit, liking the texture, before, dropping his panties.

‘Do your feet feel better?’ Dmitri asked.

‘Much,’ Garnet said. They still ached, but that would be gone by morning. He’d have to take it easy for a few days; but, then again, Garnet had no idea when it would be safe to go dance again. The thought made him sad, but he smelled something wonderful and welcomed the distraction, watching the vampire pour oil from a crystal bottle into the bathwater.

‘No bath bombs?’ Garnet loved bath bombs. Dmitri gave that a little lopsided smile.

‘We have none with suitable glitter.’

Garnet was surprised into a laugh, and it echoed on the tiles, and it felt _good_ , it felt so good, and Garnet had to stop or he would start crying and he didn’t want to deal with that, right now. He didn’t want to think about anything that _had_ happened, only what was happening now. He dipped a hand into the water; it was hot, but comfortable. The room was already heating up, smallish as it was. Garnet braced himself—his feet were going to have that fake-burning feeling of plunging from ice to hot water, but… one, two, three….

He sank into the bath all at once, the water just hot enough to relax everything immediately, and Garnet nearly fainted from it, vision blacking out; he was glad Dmitri was there to hold his head above the water. The rushing sound of the water stopped just before, and Garnet marvelled at witnessing—however dimly—vampiric speed, for the first time.

‘May I touch you?’ Dmitri asked, and Garnet understood what he meant—Garnet needed a proper scrubbing, not just a dip, and he was _way_ , way too tired for that. But Dmitri was hot, and he was gentle, and wasn’t human, and that was all three of Garnet’s ticky boxes.

‘Sureyeah,’ Garnet slurred, ‘Y’r hot, ‘sfine.’

And then he lost the battle with sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to talk more about the world, ask questions, or hang out? I have [a discord server](https://discord.gg/uVJR3ad)!


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